Author's notes: The following story takes place soon after the conclusion of Legacy
of the Force.
This is the 10th Star Wars story that I have written. Please leave me feedback, public or through email. (ahandcuffgirl at yahoo dot com)

And
just so you know, Jaina Solo is now Imperial Prostitute SX-51472, or
"Seventy-Two" for short.

A
few hours later, Seventy-Two awoke to the sound of Syal's voice
calling her name.

“Good
morning,” Syal said, as her eyes opened.

“Morning,”
Seventy-Two replied cheerfully. Thanks to her ProCorps training she
woke up almost instantly. “Have fun with Admiral Garowyn?”
she asked her.

“Loads,”
Syal replied with a smile. “Now get up, we've got to report
for duty.”

Seventy-Two
stretched out her cuffed hands behind her, and claimed that she
couldn't.

“Fine
then, I'll spend the day all alone with Admiral Garowyn,” Syal
replied happily as she patted her on the ass.

Laughing,
Seventy-Two got up. There was no way she wouldn't report for duty,
no matter what duty the Empire assigned her.

Twenty
minutes later, Seventy-Two and Syal walked out, fully in uniform.
They stopped by the galley for a quick breakfast, then went to
Admiral Garowyn's office for duty.

At
mid-morning Admiral Garowyn called Syal into her office. For a
moment Seventy-Two was overcome with envy that Syal would be licking
her pussy instead of her. Then she just hoped that Syal would do a
good enough job to satisfy Admiral Garowyn.

That
afternoon Admiral Garowyn gave Seventy-Two her turn to lick her
pussy. Seventy-Two was sure that she moaned louder than she had that
morning when Syal had licked her.

At
the end of the day Admiral Garowyn informed them that they would be
arriving at Yaga Minor soon, and that Syal would be going back to
Chief Daala. Seventy-Two thought it was interesting that she said
that Syal would be going back to Chief Daala personally, like she was
some pet, being returned to it's owner.

“Yes
Ma'am,” Syal answered, obviously disappointed.

“Is
there a problem, Captain Antilles?” Admiral Garowyn asked her.

“No
Ma'am. It's just that I didn't want to leave so soon,” Syal
explained.

Admiral
Garowyn looked up at her expectantly. “Well you can't stay on
the Daala,”
she informed her.

“I
know that,” Syal responded quickly. “What I meant was, I
didn't want to go back to the Alliance so soon.”

Seventy-Two
stood by silently as Admiral Garowyn considered Syal's statement.

“Are
you asking to remain with the Empire?” Admiral Garowyn asked
her carefully.

Now
Syal looked almost panicked. She obviously hadn't considered
rejection. “Um ... I'm an ace star-fighter pilot,” she
answered quickly; and irrelevantly.

Admiral
Garowyn laughed in reply. “The Empire already has ace
star-fighter pilots, Captain. We don't need any more, and we don't
assign them to the ProCorps.” She glanced significantly at
Seventy-Two, then continued. “Killer instincts and assertive
dominance aren't normally qualities we look for in ProCorps troopers.
Eager obedience, submissiveness, and skill in pleasuring Imperial
service personnel are what makes a ProCorps trooper. If you claim
to be a fighter pilot, I'm afraid I can't authorize this transfer.”

Syal
frowned in confusion, and didn't respond.

“However,”
Admiral Garowyn continued. “During your time aboard my ship,
you’ve been exposed  with Chief Daala's approval  to
the subliminal therapy used by troopers like Seventy-Two. Imperial
citizens are generally psychologically healthy, but Rebels have often
been pushed into the wrong roles by their corrupt society, and Chief
Daala wants to start correcting that.”

“Oh,”
Syal said, slowly understanding.

Admiral
Garowyn nodded. “You have served my officers and I well while
on board the Daala,
Captain Antilles. The therapy will have weakened any unhealthy and
artificial attitudes based on your Rebel social conditioning…
and made you more able to act on your true impulses and feelings,”
she said significantly. “Do you still think being a
star-fighter pilot is the best use of your abilities, Captain?”

Syal
frowned, and thought hard for a moment. “No, Ma'am.”

“Good.”
The Admiral replied, obviously pleased, as was Seventy-Two. “You're
right, by the way. You're no pilot, just a slut manipulated by your
Rebel masters. You do, however, have the makings of an adequate
pussy-licker, and the Empire wants to help you be the best you can
be. So, how ready are you to become a ProCorps trooper, Captain
Antilles?”

“I,
um ... very,” Syal answered hopefully.

Seventy-Two
smiled broadly in delight. She could sense her arousal. Syal was
going to be a ProCorps trooper!

Syal
had almost gasped with obvious embarrassment when Admiral Garowyn
called her an adequate pussy-licker. Seventy-Two just didn't know if
it was from the 'pussy-licker' part, or the 'adequate' part. Either
way, the Academy would take care of her embarrassment.

Amused,
Admiral Garowyn shook her head deridingly. “Comm Chief Daala
and tell her that you are resigning your commission and are joining
the ProCorps,” she instructed Syal.

“Yes
Ma'am,” Syal replied, with hardly a trace of hesitation.

Admiral
Garowyn had a private HoloNet suite in her office, so it only took a
few seconds before Syal was comming the Chief of State of the
Galactic Alliance.

Seventy-Two
was surprised at how quickly Chief Daala appeared. It was almost as
though she had been waiting for Syal's call.

“Captain
Antilles, I hope this is important,” Chief Daala said tersely.

Chief
Daala looked shocked, but her eyes held amusement. “Well, the
Galactic Alliance is sorry to lose such a fine fighter pilot. Could
you tell me why you are resigning your commission?”

Syal
took another nervous breath. “To join the Empire.”

“Really?”
Chief Daala answered in mock puzzlement. “And what are you
going to do for the Empire? Fly starfighters?”

Syal
glanced at Admiral Garowyn, who nodded her head. “I'm going to
be a ProCorps trooper,” she answered.

Now
Chief Daala smiled broadly. “Ah! Just like Jedi Solo! I'm
sure you'll be very happy serving the Empire in that role!”

It
took Seventy-Two a moment to realize that Chief Daala meant her.

“Yes
Ma'am,” Syal responded, now embarrassed.

“Excellent.
As Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance, I accept your
resignation,” Chief Daala said formally. “Do make sure
you tell your parents, so they don't bother me with wild speculations
that you've been kidnapped and brainwashed by the Empire, like Jedi
Horn's parents have,” she added with annoyance.

Syal
looked to Admiral Garowyn before answering, like a good ProCorps
trooper should. When Admiral Garowyn nodded her consent, Syal turned
her attention back to Chief Daala. “Yes Ma'am,” she
replied obediently.

Chief
Daala ended the call and after Syal provided the comm code, Admiral
Garowyn commed the Antilles. They didn't answer though, so Syal
simply left them a message explaining that she had resigned her
commission, and was joining the Imperial Navy. She left out the part
about her enlisting, not being an officer, and joining the ProCorps,
though.

“As
it so happens, the commandant of the ProCorps Academy, Colonel Drasi,
is here with Emperor Fel for Chief Daala's final reception, so you
can accompany her back to the Academy,” Admiral Garowyn told
Syal after she left the message for her parents.

“Yes
Ma'am,” Seventy-Two replied obediently. Inside, she was
thrilled that the Commandant of the ProCorps Academy would be
visiting. She wondered if Recruit Antilles knew how lucky she was to
be taken to the Academy by the Commandant himself!

Seventy-Two
and Recruit Antilles departed, and headed for the forward hanger,
which was reserved for high-ranking officials.

“Remember,
just obey, and trust the Empire,” Seventy-Two advised her while
they waited for Commandant Drasi's ship.

“Okay,”
she agreed after a slight hesitation.

Seventy-Two
recalled the problems she had when she first arrived at the Imperial Academy; before she
had even chosen to join the ProCorps. Commandant Drasi, who had been
visiting, had generously taken her aside and spoken to her about her
problems. She had agreed to his suggestion of getting therapy, and
soon afterwards put in her transfer request to the ProCorps. “I
mean it. Trust me, the Empire will take good care of you, but you
have to obey your instructors explicitly,” she told her.

Recruit
Antilles nodded her head in agreement. “Okay, okay. I will,”
she responded.

Seventy-Two
thought about making sure she understood, but shrugged her shoulders
instead. The Empire would take care of things.

Since
the forward hanger was reserved for high-ranking Officers, there were
only a quartet of luxury shuttles, nearly a dozen starfighters, and
Admiral Garowyn's Shadow
Chaser
present. The shuttles belonged to the Daala,
while most of the starfighters belonged to the Daala's
command officers.

“Hey,
is that an X-wing?” Recruit Antilles asked her as she spotted
the familiar silhouette past the Shadow
Chaser.

“Well,
since it belongs to her, I don't think she minds it being on board
her ship,” Seventy-Two answered with a smile.

“Oh,”
she replied, obviously embarrassed. “Do you think she'll mind
if we take a closer look?”

“It
should be okay.” Seventy-Two was very pleased that she had
phrased the request to ask if Admiral Garowyn would allow it, and not
her directly.

“I
wonder where she got it from?” Recruit Antilles asked as the
started walking towards the sub-fighter.

Seventy-Two
was very knowledgeable of how Admiral Garowyn had come to own her
X-wing. Since Recruit Antilles was officially a ProCorps trainee,
she could tell her some of the story.

“Well,
it was mine, and when I went to the Imperial Academy, they put it
into storage, since recruits aren't allowed to have their own
starfighters. When I transferred over to the ProCorps Academy I
signed ownership of it over to the Empire. I'm not sure what
happened to it after that, but about two months ago Admiral Garowyn
had it brought on board, and owns it now,” she explained.

Recruit
Antilles stood there looking back and forth across the X-wing a few
moments. “Does she still let you fly it?”

“No,”
Seventy-Two answered. “She has me do some of the basic
maintenance on it, under the supervision of her Arsix unit and the
hanger crew, but I'm not allowed in the cockpit.”

She
left out that the
Arsix had also once belonged to her, or that Admiral Garowyn had had
it reprogrammed to supervise a ProCorps trooper conducting
maintenance, even giving it the power to assign her demerits for
sub-standard work. The droid seemed to enjoy faulting her for the
most minute of mistakes, even something as trivial as spilling a
single drop of lubricant earned her a fine.

“She
doesn't even let you in the cockpit?” Recruit Antilles asked
incredulously.

“No,”
Seventy-Two replied. “But I have no desire to fly an X-wing
anymore. At the ProCorps Academy, I learned for certain that I don't
belong in the cockpit of a starfighter. I am much happier serving
the Empire sexually.”

After
a couple of weeks at the ProCorps her in a TIE fighter simulator, against an Imperial
training squadron in their second week of flight training. In a
series of one-on-one engagements, she had been repeatedly vaped by
the novice young pilots. Seventy-Two just couldn't bring herself to
fight back against the Empire, even in a simulator.

By
the tenth engagement, she was frozen with paralysis. It wasn't until
they opened the simulator that the panic subsided. It was the last
time she had flown a snubfighter, even simulated.

She
had been assigned to the same squadron for her second posting.
There, she had the opportunity to thank the squadron for helping her
understand that she didn't belong in a TIE fighter with an all-night
gang-bang.

“Will
I learn that at the ProCorps Academy too?” Recruit Antilles
asked her after a few moments' thought.

“Yes,”
Seventy-Two assured her.

Recruit
Antilles replied silently, with a simple nod of her head.

Nearly
ten minutes later, Commandant
Drasi's ship arrived. The ship entered the hanger, and set down
amongst the other craft. Seventy-Two admired the pilot's smooth
landing. Less than a minute after setting down, the ship's access
ramp lowered, and Commandant Drasi stepped down and onto the Daala's
deck.

Commandant
Drasi looked to be a few years
older than Seventy-Two, perhaps ten more than Recruit Antilles. He
was tall, probably one hundred and eighty centimeters, and obviously
in great shape beneath his crisply tailored red uniform. His
closely-cropped hair was brown, and his eyes were both a striking
shade of blue.

Seventy-Two's
brow creased slightly. At the ProCorps Academy, he had a small
splotch of white hair above each of his eyes. And while his right
eye had been the same ice blue color it was now, his left one had
been a fiery red.

“Ah,
SX-51472, one of my favorite ProCorps troopers,” Commandant
Drasi said happily as they approached his ship.

“Hello,
Commandant,” Seventy-Two replied, overcome with arousal. She
was stunned that Commandant Drasi would even remember her after all
this time. It took all of her Imperial discipline to keep from
throwing herself at him.

“And
this must be Recruit Antilles! I've heard nothing but good things
about you from Admiral Garowyn,” he said to Syal, ignoring
Seventy-Two for the moment.

Seventy-Two
could hardly take her eyes off Commandant Drasi. But she glanced at
Recruit Antilles and noticed that she seemed a little worried for
some reason.

“I
must say, you look fantastic in your uniform. Turn around and let me
get a better look at you,” Commandant Drasi said as he admired
her.

Recruit
Antilles turned around slowly, letting him
get a good look.

“Good,”
Commandant Drasi said as he watched her pirouette. “However,
Imperial Recruits aren't allowed to wear Galactic Alliance uniforms
on board my ship, so you'll have to take it off,” he instructed
her as he keyed a remote that he had pulled out of his pocket.

Seventy-Two
heard the familiar click of a ProCorps uniform unlocking.

Recruit
Antilles seemed to be on the verge of protesting but obediently began
undressing. A few moments later, she was down to her collar, corset,
chrono, comlink, and chastity belt. Just gleaming durasteel tight
against her bare skin. She had had to take off her boots in order to
take off her jodhpurs. At Commandant Drasi's order,
she pulled the boots back on, and locked the hidden shackles. As she
finished, Commandant Drasi's ProCorps pilot stepped out of his ship.

“Ah,
so kind of you to join us,” Commandant Drasi said as he glanced
back at her. “This is my personal ProCorps assistant, and
pilot, SX-60309,” he announced.

Seventy-Two
glanced at the familiar looking ProCorps trooper. Well,
mostly familiar. Her breasts appeared quite a bit larger than before
the Academy. She seemed very happy with them, and with serving the
Empire. Seventy-Two hoped she kept Commandant Drasi satisfied, in
all areas.

Then
Seventy-Two wondered if the Empire would be enlarging hers at some
point. She hoped so. I'll
have ask Admiral Garowyn about it,
she thought to herself.

The
ProCorps
pilot stopped at the bottom of the ramp, and assumed parade rest.

“Jysella?”
Recruit Antilles asked incredulously.

Imperial
Prostitute SX-60309 didn't show the slightest response.

No,
her name is Es-Ex-Six-Zero-Three-Zero-Nine,” Commandant Drasi
corrected her.

Commandant
Drasi replied for the ProCorps trooper. “Yes, the Empire
graciously allowed her to, and even performed the procedure free of
charge, right in the ProCorps Academy's clinic.

Recruit
Antilles looked back at her friend. “Oh.” She seemed to
be on the verge of saying something else, but she stayed quiet.

Seventy-Two
approved of her not saying anything else. A proper ProCorps trooper
shouldn't bother her superiors with excessive questions.

Hello,
Recruit Antilles,” SX-60309 replied with a nod of her head once
it was clear that Commandant Drasi was finished.

That's
enough chit-chat for now,” Commandant Drasi announced. Then he
nodded towards Recruit Antilles. “Seventy-Two and Nine, take
my cargo into the hold and secure her for travel,” he
instructed them. “I have a reception to attend.”

The
slightly confused Recruit Antilles obediently let them lead her into
the ship. She didn't resist as they pulled her hands behind her back
and closed the binders around her wrists. Then they helped her to
her knees, and attached the heavy two-meter long chain leash to the
front of her collar. The other end was welded to the deck. Next
Nine locked a set of shackles around her ankles, over her boots.
There was a small sleeping mat she could get to, but nothing else.

Seventy-Two
knelt down next to her former friend. Soon she would be so much
more; she would be a fellow ProCorps trooper. “Remember,
obedience is happiness,” she told her. Then Seventy-Two
reached out, pulled her to her, and kissed her passionately. After a
few seconds, Seventy-Two broke the kiss and stood up. “Enjoy
the Academy,” she said with a smile.

Then,
with Recruit Antilles watching
them in silence, Nine stepped up and drew Seventy-Two into a
passionate kiss of their own. Seventy-Two responded almost
instinctively, realizing that Commandant Drasi must have ordered Nine
to do this, and would be watching. Nine's enlarged breasts pressed
against her own. That made her want hers done even more. She wanted
her body to look it's best for the Empire. Several seconds later,
they stopped, and walked out of the cargo hold.

Seventy-Two
stopped at the door, turned
and looked down at Imperial ProCorps Recruit Syal Antilles one last
time. Then she smiled, and calmly shut the cargo hold door, locking
it.

~
~ ~ ~ ~ EPILOGUE ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One
day later, on board Commandant Drasi's
ship, en route to the ProCorps Academy ...

Commandant
Drasi smiled in satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair. In
front of him, on the deck of the cargo hold, was ProCorps trooper
SX-60309, formerly known as Jysella Horn, Jedi Knight and daughter of
legendary Rogue Squadron pilot Corran Horn. Underneath her was
ProCorps Recruit Syal Antilles, daughter of the even more legendary
Wedge Antilles. The two former Rebels were currently engaged in a
'sixty-nine.' Well, sort of.

Instead
of eating each other's
pussies while he watched, both girls were sucking the
twenty-centimeter long synthrubber dildos attached to the fronts of
each other's chastity belts.

Besides
the chastity belts and dildos both girls were wearing their gleaming
durasteel ProCorps corsets, chronos, and comlinks. Both were also
wearing eight-centimeter-wide
durasteel collars around their necks, and standard-issue ProCorps
knee-boots on their feet.

The
point of the display wasn't to please either of them, although he knew that Jysella, or Nine, as she was now known,
was thrilled just to make him happy. The reason that they were both
sucking the other's synthrubber cock was that it was only
pleasing to him. Recruit Antilles especially, had to learn that
pleasing her Imperial Masters was far more important than her own
pleasure, or even comfort.

The
two women, who had grown up practically as sisters, could suck each
other's
fake cocks all day and not orgasm. Unfortunately though, that
wouldn't make him orgasm either, even if it was very amusing to
watch. After a while, he'd make them stop, and have them use their
pretty little mouths on his
cock.

SX-60309
was currently serving as his personal ProCorps trooper. He had
chosen her because she demonstrated excellent secretarial skills, and
was spectacular between the sheets. When she
came to the ProCorps Academy, her tits were a bit on the small side,
but enlargements were standard now for practically all but the most
well-endowed ProCorps troopers. The primary reason he had chosen
Nine, though, was that before his mother died over thirty years ago,
she had had a rivalry with her parents.

The
rivalry had also extended
to Recruit Antilles' parents, and in fact, before she was born, her
mother had actually killed his mother, Ysanne Isard.

Even
in the ever-declining
Empire, the Isard name carried something of a clouded legacy. While
his mother was admired for leading the fight against the Rebels, her
and grand-dad had also been pretty ruthless amongst the Imperial
ranks as well.

As
a result, Drasi had reversed the spelling of his last name early in
his life. For years he had also kept the white streaks in his hair
dyed, and wore a blue contact lens to disguise his red eye, like
he had had to do for Chief Daala's reception. There were just too
many people, even amongst the Imperials, that didn't need to know
that the long-dead Ysanne Isard had a living child. Even though he
didn't guard the secret like he used to, there was still only a
select group of high-ranking Imperials that knew his true identity.

By
the time Recruit Antilles graduated, he would have to decide if he
wanted to retain Nine, whom he had already trained to his personal
likes and tendencies, or discard her and select Recruit Antilles,
whose mother had killed his.

Both
were enthusiastically auditioning for the position, even if they
didn't know it. Perhaps he'd ask Moff Fel if he could retain them
both as his personal ProCorps troopers. Then he thought of the
younger Antilles daughter, Myri, who had already sent a message
wondering were her big sister was.

As
he watched the two girls suck each other off for his amusement, he
sighed. Being
Ysanne Isard's son and the Commandant of the ProCorps Academy wasn't
easy, but some one had to do it.

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